


A Hard Lesson to Learn

by katambrosius



Series: Omovember 2017 [17]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Pee, Wetting, omovember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katambrosius/pseuds/katambrosius
Summary: Omovember Day 17Onmund finally gains permission to look at a book he has been coveting for months, but Urag will only let him look at it once.  Too bad he forgot to relieve himself before going to the Arcanaeum.





	A Hard Lesson to Learn

Onmund shifted in his seat, his already crossed legs squeezing even tighter as he carefully turned the page in the Alteration tome he was studying. It had taken hours of persuading Urag, with constant trips and lots of favours, to let him look at _Daughter of the Niben_ , and he was only allowed to look at it once. There was no way he was cutting that time short for something as ridiculous as relieving himself. 

So, in hindsight, it had been incredibly stupid to come up here without emptying his bladder first, but he was so excited. He loved Alteration magic, though he’d never been successful in learning any, and maybe this book would help him understand what was blocking his success. Whatever the chances, he had to try. And he hadn’t found anything yet, so leaving to relieve himself was not an option. Not at all. Onmund cursed under his breath, shifted again, and continued reading. 

An hour passed slowly. Mages drifted in and out, pursuing the shelves, talking to Urag, scribbling down notes, and Onmund read. And reread. And read upside down. And spoke random sentences aloud. It didn’t make sense. No matter how hard he tried to understand, he couldn’t. He’d moved to a less central spot in the room when people started to look at him funny, but he was still in sight of the grumpy librarian. 

His previously crossed legs fanned in and out, and his left hand alternated between hovering over his bladder protectively, and darting between his legs for a quick squeeze. Onmund ignored everything in favour of studying, shutting his need out of his mind. There was nothing he could do about it, and by the gods he was going to hold it. He turned a page, and cursed under his breath when it nearly tore, his bladder spasming at just the wrong time. He was going to get himself killed, or at the very least banned from the Arcanaeum.

Squirming constantly in his seat, Onmund leant down close to the page, ignoring the way his position pressed on his bladder. Maybe if he looked close enough he’d notice something he missed before. A few strangled whimpers forced their way out as he rubbed his thighs together, one hand permanently between his legs. 

The next few minutes passed in agony, every nerve in Onmund’s body begging him to let go. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He- _oh_. A burst of heat at his crotch had his eyes widening like saucers, the second burst had his other hand flying to his crotch as he scrambled out of his seat and doubled over in the middle of the Arcanaeum. He took a few steps forward. Another leak escaped. A few more steps and he gave up hope. 

He raised his head, meeting the uninterested stare of the librarian. He felt sick, his stomach doing flip flops inside him. He was terrified. He lost control for a few seconds, piss streamed down his legs, where it wasn’t soaked up by his robes. His beloved Alteration robes were _soaking up his piss_ , Onmund thought he might cry. With a sob that racked his body, Onmund sank to his knees. He dropped his hands to his sides, then raised them to cover his face as he let go.

The Arcanaeum was quiet. Too quiet, except for the rapid hissing of urine as it soaked through cloth and spread in a puddle. The sound filled Onmund’s ears, and he knew he would spend the next portion of his life trying to forget it. The room was empty, except for grumpy old Urag, who watched silently. When the hissing finished, Onmund’s own uneven breaths filled the room, and he raised his head slowly. 

Urag had moved from behind his desk, and stood halfway between it and the disgraced apprentice. With a wave of his hand, the mess vanished, leaving Onmund feeling clean, if icky. He wiped his hands over the dry cloth of his robes, staring in wonder. When he looked back up, Urag had passed him and was clearing up his book and notes. 

“Go bathe, stupid child. This book and notes will be here for you when you come back. As many times as you want.”

Onmund stared in disbelief. 

“You’ve proved your determination to study. I can reward that, at least. But listen here, Apprentice, if you _ever_ defile my library in any way again, I will throw you out into the snow myself. I don’t care what the Arch-Mage says.”

Onmund nodded mutely, and hurried from the room. He nearly slipped down the stairs twice in his hurry, but eventually he felt he’d put enough space between him and Urag to relax. His heartbeat started to slow, and his stomach stopped flipping around. He breathed a sigh of relief. He could go back tomorrow. No. Not tomorrow. The day after. Yes. He’d leave just a little time for the memory to fade. 

His cheeks tinged red as he once more examined his clean robes. Urag didn’t know how much he was taunting him with that little piece of Alteration magic, did he? He probably did. 

“Bastard.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Wetting a uniform


End file.
